


Leaning in a Little More Aggressively

by zarabithia



Category: White Collar
Genre: Community: schmoop_bingo, Domesticity, Multi, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-02
Updated: 2010-10-02
Packaged: 2017-10-12 09:10:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They'll get to the whipped cream. Eventually.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leaning in a Little More Aggressively

  
Neal's workspace in the Burke household had been a point of contention, in the beginning.

El had vetoed the sofa and coffee table, under the terms that it was her spot to relax with her choice of wine or coffee, depending on how strenuous the day had been. Peter had vetoed the dinning room table, under the argument that Peter needed the table for casework.

In truth, Neal didn't truly want either spot. Both spots would have required sharing his work space, and the cramped feeling that came with the sharing only hindered his creative abilities, especially when it came to painting.

Of course, he didn't tell Peter or El that. Instead, he engaged in long debates with Peter over whether or not Neal was able to engage in his pieces without getting charcoal or paint on Peter's precious documents. Neal contended that he hadn't been able to become a con-man of his repute by being _sloppy._

It had been a great argument, and one that had wound Peter up in just the way that Neal enjoyed the most. It had also amused Elizabeth, right up until the point that she ordered Neal to take his art out onto the patio and enjoy the natural lighting.

During the summer months, the patio was a great place for Neal to work. Satchmo could sit at his feet, the door to the Burke residence would be open just enough for the sounds of Peter and Elizabeth's voices to reach Neal. On her more sympathetic days, Elizabeth could even be persuaded into to bring him a glass of lemonade, and most of the time, Neal didn't even have to use one of his pouts to get it.

But as well as that arrangement worked during the summer, by early October, it became clear that the patio was not going to work during the colder months. Neal geared up for another round of arguing with Peter, but El - perhaps not looking forward to that encore as much as Neal - suggested that he paint a mural on the wall of the hallway leading up the stairs.

Peter hadn't liked that idea very much, but as with all things, Elizabeth's word trumped Peter's.

Three weeks into his project, Neal sat hunched over on the second step of the stairs. It was a slow moving project, and Neal had no doubt that it would take him the remainder of cooler months to finish the mural, between the schedule conflicts, the ever-increasing work loads of all three household members, and the fight to gain some down time with both of his lovers.

Since the mural obviously wasn't going to be finished any time soon, Neal took a moment to stretch and observe his handiwork. While he contemplated the exact shade of green to use as an accent color, he listened to Peter attempt to make a case against curried pumpkin soup.

Satchmo stretched out at the bottom of stairs as Neal shifted, taking this as a sign of an oncoming petting. Neal did scratch the dog behind the ears, but he also took his break as the opportunity to mention, "I don't know, Peter. El's curried pumpkin soup can be topped with nutmeg, and that _is_ seen as an aphrodisiac to some people."

Peter twisted in his chair to answer Neal, causing Satchmo to tilt his head and consider going to Peter for a pat. Ultimately, he decided that Neal's ear-rubs were just fine, and leaned in a little more aggressively to the petting to drive that point home.

"Since when do we need any aphrodisiacs?" Peter asked.

"It's not about _needing_ aphrodisiacs, Peter," Neal explained patiently. "It's about building up anticipation."

"We don't need any help with that, either," Peter argued. He glanced over at his wife for confirmation. "Do we, El?"

"Well..." Elizabeth leaned against the door frame separating the kitchen from the dining room, tossing the canned pumpkin lightly back and forth in her hands. "Not usually."

"Not _usually_?" Peter repeated.

"Ouch," Neal commented, moving his scratchings to below Satchmo's neck. "Sounds like we definitely need to start branching out beyond your favorites, Peter. A bit less Chinese, and a bit more oysters."

"Oysters?" Peter couldn't have made a worse face had Neal suggested they start eating Satchmo's droppings. "How did we get from nutmeg to oysters?"

"Oysters are also supposedly aphrodisiacs," Neal answered.

Peter ignored Neal and gave Elizabeth a wounded look. Elizabeth wasn't particularly sympathetic, which served to drive home the point of why Neal adored her. It also proved that Peter needed a bit more pout to make his wounded look effective.

"You know, I had great hope that your undercover time as an auditor, during which you seemed to enjoy the perks so very much, would have made you more open to the kind of foods Neal and I like," Elizabeth replied.

"That's a good point," Neal agreed. "I definitely remember you liking that coffee."

"Yes, being poisoned will always turn a man's preferences." Neal thought that Peter's sarcasm needed as much help as his pout did.

Elizabeth shrugged. "If it can get a murderer to confess, it might get you to be more adventurous with your food?"

Peter sighed - which had just the right amount of impending doom mixed in, and didn't' need any work at all. "So we'll be having oysters with our pumpkin soup?"

"Curried pumpkin soup," Neal corrected, earning him a glare which Peter had perfected far too long ago to ever need anymore work.

"Maybe tomorrow," Elizabeth answered. "Though, to be perfectly honest, when it comes to combining food with sex, I've always preferred the old-fashioned approach. Give me a can of whipped cream and strawberries and I'll be perfectly happy."

"I like whipped cream," Peter told her.

"I bet it will make a great dessert to follow up your soup," Neal added.

"I bet it will, too, Neal." With that, Elizabeth went back into kitchen and Peter gave Neal another displeased glare that Neal was sure _should_ have been aimed at the can of pumpkin Elizabeth was pounding into a bowl, instead of him.

His entertainment momentarily ceased, Neal gently pushed Satchmo away. As Satchmo whined and reluctantly moved back to the bottom of the stairs, the sight of Neal's anklet caught Neal's eye. Seeing it caused the same irrational itching that the sight always caused, and Neal scratched at his ankle absently while Satchmo flopped down and looked up at him.

This was a very different life than the one Neal'd had, or the one he'd thought he'd wanted. But as Neal absently scratched at his ankle, he paused, for a moment, to listen to the sound of Peter typing on his laptop and the sound of El mixing the ingredients together in the kitchen.

No, it wasn't the life he thought he'd have - but he wouldn't trade it, and the impending whipped cream, for all the oysters in the world.

Still, oysters would look a lot better than the Reddi Wip on the mural. So Neal stopped scratching at his anklet, picked up his brush, and contemplated just the right shades of black and white.


End file.
